Amend
by sillym3
Summary: From mistakes, we shall learn.
1. Part One : Faults

**Disclaimer : **There is no way a woman who barely speaks English own Gil Grissom, Sara Sidle, and C.S.I. CBS and other entities own them. They also run the show, make the money, and provide me a chance to write my point of view on what had happened after one memorable episode: The Good, The Bad, and The Dominatrix.

**A/N: **Just like poor Anakin Skywalker, I could not run and hide from my gloomy destiny. Sylvie's influence was too strong. I have turned to the dark side. The force could do nothing to help this situation. Angst ahead!

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**AMEND**

"_**The real fault is to have faults and not to amend them" (Confucius)**_

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**Part one: Faults.**

The mid afternoon sun beamed weakly as Grissom stepped closer to the door of their townhouse with his key in hand, half of him anxious that Sara had bolted the door dead from the inside. But the key clicked in just right and he could push the door open with ease. Everything seemed fine.

No. Grissom knew better than to celebrate early.

When he reached the leather couch downstairs, he gulped. His grey shirt and his white cotton boxers were neatly folded and situated above one of the cushions. A glass with his toothbrush in it was on the table.

He sighed. Heavily.

_You take the couch tonight. _

She didn't need to say it out loud. The blue toothbrush with a healthy dollop of toothpaste on it had spoken for her. He got the message. Somehow she had found him guilty.

He stripped off his clothes in the living room, donned the sleep attire she had provided while snatching a cold sandwich from the refrigerator then brushed his teeth in the kitchen sink. All was done on autopilot, his mind otherwise engaged.

What was he guilty of? He had done nothing but visit a friend, offering Heather his support. Sara did the same with Greg, and Nick, and Brass and he had never objected.

Well, maybe his objections had never been as palpable as hers now.

She said it was fine. She said he could do what he needed to do. Hadn't she meant what she had said?

If she felt any objection toward his act, if she was upset about the night he'd spent at Heather's, why didn't she tell him about it? Why couldn't she say she was upset?

She shouldn't have just gone home early without notice. She shouldn't have ignored his attempts to talk about it. All his phone calls and his text messages went unanswered. He didn't deserve this silent treatment, did he?

When he finished dwelling on every reason, every defense, every explanation he was already sprawled on the couch. The leather felt clammy on his skin and he sadly recalled that Sara had often proposed to buy a more comfortable couch. An offer he had simply declined.

He fell into a pitiful sleep, more because of his restless mind than his restless body. When he got tired of bad dreams and the uncomfortable air and couch, he woke up and strode to their bedroom.

Or, for this time being, her bedroom.

The door was unlocked, a fact that he gratefully appreciated. Maybe she wasn't that mad at him. The blinds were shut and the light was low; he easily spotted her lying on her side, facing the wall. Her body curved under the cocooning blanket and he wondered if he could lie beside her. Maybe tomorrow they could wake up as usual, limbs tangled together. Maybe they would forget about this somehow. Maybe he wouldn't need to explain at all.

The bed dipped as he sat on it. The pillow seemed so inviting when he touched it, although not as inviting as the side of her neck, illuminated by the dim light.

Right when he was about to brush his hand on her skin, she turned around and he snatched his hand away, her red-rimmed eyes peering up at him.

He blinked when he saw the raw emotion in those brown orbs. Suddenly it dawned on him that she hadn't slept at all. The tear streaks were a solid proof that she had been crying. God only knew how long for.

The once warm air suddenly became too cold for his skin. His hand moved unconsciously to touch her hand. To his surprise she didn't flinch nor move. Those eyes didn't blink at all. Then, without giving him a chance to do anything at all, she pinned him down. Her hands pressed his wrists above his head, her gaze piercing deep into his eyes, sending shiver down his spine.

"Sara?"

Her knee went between his thighs as her lips dived for his neck. He gasped, feeling her suckling on his skin. His body electrified, aching to meet hers, yet his brain told him to stop.

"Don't." She warned. She looked up to him with a pained look. "Don't ask." Her hands trailed down his torso to the edge of his shirt, tugging the garment upward.

"Sara…" The strength and urgency of her frantic movement made him sit upright. He let her tug the shirt off his body but stopped her when she reached for his boxers. "Sara, sweetheart…" He cupped her face ready to demand some explanation.

"Don't… just don't." She caught his hands and brought them up to the headboard, using his shirt to tie them to the post.

He could have put up a fight; he possessed the strength to stop her. But as she hovered over him, gloom and ache reflected in her gaze, he remained still. Her hands were trembling as she bound him and tears welled up in her eyes. An icy feeling stabbed Grissom's heart as he watched her move about him; he knew then and there that he was the cause of her misery.

But then again, hadn't that always been the case?

He choked out her name as she pulled off her nightshirt, revealing all her glory. When she roughly slid his boxers down his thighs her fingers burned invisible paths on his skin. They stare at each other's naked body. His blue eyes filled with desperation as much as her brown orbs filled with something he could only describe as deep vulnerability.

Questions welled up in his brain but as if reading his thoughts Sara kissed his mouth hungrily, locking whatever word he needed to utter inside. She forced his thighs open with her knee again while running her hands from his bare chest down to his stomach. When she reached his manhood he felt the beginning of a familiar tingle course through his spine.

He lifted his head, a last attempt to find some clarity in this rather absurd event. His eyes searched hers, but she was too busy with the task at hand. Her long hair framed her face, shielding her from his questioning gaze. Grissom gave up. Maybe later he would find out what this was all about. Right now his basic need won over his rational mind.

She started by massaging him from his base upward, slowly bringing him to life. Her adept fingers wrapped around his shaft and balls, pumping and tightening around him while he could only wait and watch. When she lowered her mouth on him Grissom threw his head back on the pillow, knowing exactly what would happen next.

The first contact with her velvety tongue ignited a slight buck of his hips. He could feel her hand pressing against his thigh, physically forcing him to stay still. The sound she made as she gloved him with her warm mouth sent whatever rational thought he had out of his mind. His stomach tightened as she began to suck. The cotton bind loosened as he involuntary tugged at his hands, aching to touch and feel. When she began nipping with her sharp teeth, he clenched his eyes shut, digging his toes in the mattress and moaned. He was close, a mere millimeter away from the edge.

Then she stopped, her warmth left him stranded and cold. He refrained from grumbling his displeasure when he felt her hands on his wrists, freeing them from the binds.

"Look at me!" Sara often intoned those words when they made love but this time the tone was cold and abrupt and unfeeling.

He gulped. Who was he kidding? This wasn't love making. He knew it and she knew it, right from the very beginning. This was nothing but a convulsion, triggered by her profound frustration and his failure to react. He opened his eyes, once again gratified with that dull shine of her eyes, filled with an excruciating mixture of anger and sorrow. He could not bear it so he looked away.

"Look at me Grissom!" She ordered as she lowered herself on him, bracing his arms as she did so.

Grissom felt the familiar tightness around his length along with the strange tug of sadness in his heart. He sat up, reaching for her hips ready to stop this madness. But Sara started to grind against him and he caved in, again. She moved frantically on top of him, as if she was a woman possessed. He had no choice but to follow her desperate rhythm, drowning himself in her sad yet lust-filled eyes.

"Sara…I'm sorry." It felt like those words were the right words so he tried to say them sincerely between jagged breaths. "I'm so sorry." He touched her cheeks, watching fresh tears slide down her smooth skin as she screwed her eyes shut. "I…," His breath caught in his throat as he came, "Sorry…"

Shallow thrusts and groans accompanied his release as he fell head first into the depth of her pain. Tears streamed freely down Sara's face, burdening Grissom with remorse. As if in a trance, he slid his hand down her belly to the apex of her thighs, his thumb and fore finger starting a familiar dance on her swollen bud.

She shook her head and pushed his hand away unceremoniously. Her body trembled with pent up emotion and sobs. "You can't keep doing this to me, Gil," she spat bitterly. "You just can't." She began sobbing uncontrollably against his chest.

Grissom could do nothing but lower her with him into a lying position, stroking her hair. "Honey…." He sighed and closed his eyes, unable to string two coherent words together, even if he had known what to say.

"What am I to you?" She looked up to him, a thousand different questions mapped in her glassy eyes.

"Sara…"

"What do you get from her that you don't get from me?" Their eyes locked; her disappointment met with his startled obvious bafflement. He groped for answers, searching for help to speak his mind, and failed dejectedly.

Later, when he had the chance and mind to think of it, he cursed his lack of response He should have answered her with sincere words of affection, telling her how he would trade himself and the world around him for her love alone. Yet he did nothing but murmur her name in her ear as he ran his hand in her tousled hair, helplessly watching her shed silent tears.

After a moment she rose up from him, turning away as she lay down and tugged the blanket around her body.

"Sara…" he touched her shoulder through the soft material but this time she flinched.

"You can bring the pillows outside if you want." Her words barely audible yet they had the power to shatter his heart. "The extra blanket is on the second shelf." She pointed at the closet.

He retrieved said pillow and blanket and dressed absentmindedly, his gaze on her. She hid herself beneath the covers, closing her eyes as the remaining drops of tears wet her cheeks. At that point he could only give her a kiss on her forehead and a whisper of an apology.

Then he retreated to his gloomy world in the living room.

**To be continued**

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Thank you for reading. Please don't forget to leave your comment for this nervous writer :)


	2. Part Two : Space

**Disclaimer : **Same with chapter one, just add Jim Brass, super Dave, Catherine, Greg, and Hodges to the equation.

**A/N : **This chapter is dedicated to Sylvie, the angst master mind behind this otherwise fluffy chapter ;)

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**Part Two: Space.**

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The hot shower pouring on Grissom's back felt like needles, pricking instead of soothing like it usually did. He rubbed his face, feeling dirty, and swallowed hard as he felt a stab of guilt inside of him. If only shift did not start in half an hour, for he would much rather stay on the couch, drowning in his own thoughts.

He thought about Sara, about what had happened between them this evening, about himself, and about Heather. One could only think so much without falling into the deep dark hole of a headache. Sadly, the hot shower treatment didn't work this time. It didn't dissipate the headache that was pulsating with a vengeance. To make matters worse, the more he tried to rid himself of Sara's sad face as she stood in the doorway, the more she haunted him.

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"_What are you doing?" Grissom asked incredulously from the couch. _

"_I'm going." _

_It was almost impossible for that one simple sentence to sound so curt yet so sad. He rose abruptly, nicked the table's foot and winced in pain. When he reached her side, the sight of her with her overnight bag slung over her shoulder made his heart skip a beat. He was glad that Hank's bark had woken him. God only knew where she would disappear if he didn't stop her._

_He needed to stop her._

"_Sara, we need to talk." His left hand reached for her hand and his other hand for the bag._

_She let him hold her but she tugged at the bag, keeping it with her. "I can't." She shook her head firmly and Grissom knew he would lose that battle. __He tentatively brought his hand to her cheek but she shied away, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm not myself. I can't think__." She glanced at the bedroom from the corner of her eyes. But she had closed the door as if as if trying to lock away what had happened a mere hour ago. _

"_Sara I'm sorry, it was my fault, come on, let's talk." He tried to pull her closer by the hand but she stood still on the doorway._

"_No. I need… we need… space." She let his hand go, bending to pet Hank that for once kept silent as she left. _

_Grissom could only watch her retreating form, slowly inching away as she stepped on the landing. The world seemed to spin away from him and it took him a moment to realize what had just occurred. She was leaving him. He had made her leave. He had failed to stop her. He had made another mistake. _

"_Sara!" Her name caught in his throat and he could hear Hank whimper at his side._

_She turned around slowly. He could make out her tight grip on the strap of the bag and the tears that were flowing freely down her cheeks._

"_Where are you going to go?" It was a helpless question, a mere attempt to know that they still had a connection. He knew she would be back; that damned bag could only hold a few clothes._

_However, as he saw her there under the streetlight with her hair swept by the night wind, he could not help but think that this separation was forever. The space she needed was wide, wide enough to swallow him whole._

_She just shrugged, mouthed "I'm sorry" as she turned round and walked down the sidewalk. A cab was already waiting for her, idling at the curb. She had thought about this. This wasn't an uncalculated act of anger; this was Sara running away with her disappointment; spacing them apart._

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The headache stubbornly drilled the inside of his skull as he lathered the soap across his chest. He inhaled sharply, trying to block out the thoughts swirling in his mind. He thought he had almost succeeded when he spotted a dented space between the dark red tiles in front of him.

Space.

The last thing they needed was space created by jealousy and fault decision. Space did nothing but set people apart and burn a hole so deep it would be hard to mend.

_That fucking space! _

He banged his fist on the tiles, once, twice. The dull ache did nothing to calm his mind and he laughed bitterly, mocking the irony.

Just a while ago he had wanted space between them, and had agreed to give a series of lectures miles away from her. He had hidden behind the poor excuse of work pressures and stress while in his heart he had wanted a breather from their life together.

At that time it felt like she was filling every space available in his townhouse, in the lab, in his mind. The fact that he had gotten used of having her near him scared him, thus he had run away and given her only last minute notice.

"_It's okay, I understand._" Those were her words back then. And when he had come back, she had showed him how understanding she was. She had treated him like he had never gone. She had quite easily given him a second chance that he had now blown irremediably.

Even after she found the sonnet slipped between the pages of Shakespeare he didn't confess his true feelings for her. He had spent his days in Williams with her shadow in every room. He had missed her like a mad man, drowning in the reality that the space he initially wanted was useless. He had longed for her then, just as he was longing for her now.

He rinsed off with the now cold water, sadly imagining her warm body under the same shower. The sound of Hank scratching the bathroom door reminded him that it was Sara who usually gave the dog his evening meal. As he retreated to the bedroom, preparing for work, every single detail, corner and spot screamed to him to fix this. The lonely bedroom called for Sara's presence and she had only left two hours ago.

_Damned space. _He muttered under his breath as he texted Catherine, telling her to proceed with the assignments, he was already late. It didn't take long for Catherine to reply, informing him that he was expected at the MGM grand; a DB and he would be working solo.

The hotel room was as expected; even the hallway was filled with unnecessary luxury. Brass's comment on how the team was spread thin on four different scenes was ignored by Grissom. When the detective asked why Sara hadn't answered his call, Grissom could only provide the lame excuse of her calling sick.

"Sick? Is it serious? She's never missed crime scenes carnival before," Jim retorted.

"I don't know Jim. I can handle this alone." He rubbed his temple, regretting his words about Sara being sick. What if she was really sick, alone somewhere with no one caring about her? "Where's the scene? In the bedroom?"

"Where else could the magic happen?" Brass escorted him to the bedroom. David was already there, closing the lid of his kit.

"The woman was definitely mad at him," The coroner gushed. "He exsanguinated, she clawed five deep holes into him."

"Yeah, that or she is a wolverinesse." Brass frowned.

Grissom glanced at the body; a naked man with five bleeding puncture-wounds on his neck. It wasn't the amount of blood staining the bed and the floor, nor the nakedness that revolted him. He had seen worst. It was the man's position; he was half sitting with his hands tied by a cloth on the bed post. It was like a perfect reenactment of what had transpired earlier in his townhouse. He gulped, swallowing the bile in his throat.

"You should hear what the woman's pleading," Brass supplied, oblivious of his friend inner turmoil. "She said she did in unconsciously. That she was saddened because he cheated on her with another girl. Cheating or not, I don't think it's unconscious when you lure your boyfriend for sex and end up strangling him to death."

The image of Sara's eyes, filled with anger and disappointment replaced the image of the crime scene in Grissom's head. He shook his head to get rid of it, but it felt like she was there in the room, watching the crime scene with her tears flowing like a river.

"Sara," He whispered her name in pain. Grissom had always thought that he understood her completely, but as he stood in the luxurious space watching the blood stain the blanket, he felt like he saw another side of Sara.

A selfish act on his part that he considered insignificant had affected her more than he could ever have realized. Not only Grissom could see the reason behind her desperate act that evening, but also her attempt to claim him completely. He also saw through the reason why she had left. She felt guilty for her action when it should be him feeling that way. He was the one who had caused her misery, their misery.

Grissom flicked his cell phone open, pressing the button for Catherine's number. "Cath, I need you on the MGM scene. Tell Greg he's going solo tonight and call for Hodges to help you." He took a deep breath and didn't let Catherine's confused questions stop him. "I have something to do, just be here ASAP." He curtly ended the conversation.

He spun around, facing his best friend. "Jim, Catherine will take over this case." With that little explanation he strode for the door but Jim caught him by the arm.

"Jim. I have something important to sort out." He had his future to sort out, his future with the only woman he had ever loved deeply. "I can't and won't explain it to you." He didn't mean to sound harsh, but this urgency to see Sara and mend his faults had his head spinning .

"Fine." The detective shrugged, "just tell me you're okay."

"I will be." He went outside the room as fast as he could, leaving the heavy copper smell behind. As he once again fished his cell phone out of his pocket he prayed that Sara's phone was turned on so that Archie could track her down.

**To Be Continued**

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_Thank you so much for reading. And yeah, I still feel nervous about this, so, yeah, review?_


	3. Part Three : Uncalculated

**DISCLAIMER: I technically own nothing but my scooter and my silliness**

**A/N: Ah, yes, late update; my apology. This chapter is dedicated to those who has read and/or reviewed, thank you very much, you made me happy (in a much different definition of Grissom's happiness in "Ending Happy" of course).**

**oh, and I have no solid plot for the ending, so if you have any suggestion, tell me. smut? angst? fluff? :)**

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_**Part three: Uncalculated**_

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A calculated move is a winning move.

Years of playing chess taught Grissom that. His father had taught him that. Yet as he edged his car to the dusty roadside, he felt like six years old again. A vivid memory of watching his father knock his white King down with the black queen, mouthing "checkmate" played in Grissom's mind. His impromptu stay in Heather's dominion was an uncalculated move. A blunder he wouldn't want to repeat.

But his father had also taught Grissom that people should learn from every mistake. In chess, every move of a chess piece had its counter move and his father had said that every game he lost would teach him how to win the next one.

In that spirit, he hopped out of the Mercedes, grabbing his flashlight and hoped with every rushed step on the sand that she would still be there. Archie hadn't called with an update on Sara's coordinates in the last five minutes. So she couldn't have left that part of the desert yet.

The scientist in him knew that the bushes and the sand were subject to nature change but it still felt like it had then, two years previously. The moonlight dimly illuminated the landscape across him and his flashlight made a long silhouette of the rock formation.

Grissom would recognize this place anytime, sunlight or not. It wasn't long ago that Nick's Plexiglas coffin was buried there, right beneath his feet.

He combed his surroundings with the torchlight, anxiously waiting for her image come to life. But the only living thing he spotted was a desert lizard, curled between two rocks.

_Where is she? Where is Sara? Has she left? __Have I lost the fight for her love__?_

When the light beamed against shoe prints on the sand, Grissom breathed his relief. The unique dips and valleys of boot prints headed toward the north pass of the small hill. She had gone to "their" place, he should have known.

He approached slowly and carefully, formulating in his mind words of apologies and of explanation. He turned the torchlight off and tucked it in his back pocket, counting on the pale moon to shed some light. When he reached the other side, he caught a glimpse of her silhouette.

Her slender frame sat on a rock under the sky, gazing somewhere in the distance toward the dark horizon. A sweet déjà vu of a night almost two year ago to the day swept over him as he came closer.

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"_You're here."_

"_You, too." She gave a shaky smile and Grissom felt the chill wind of the __desert for__ the first time since he had arrived. _

"_I __couldn't__ sleep." __Every muscle in his body was tired, begging for rest, but his eyes had refused to close that evening__. He kept on seeing Nick and ants, Nick and a barking gun, Nick and a funeral. In the last effort to be able to sleep, he had driven out to buy some herbal tea. _He hadn't been surprised when he had ended up in the desert._ What had surprised him was Sara's Prius, barely a mile away from where he had stopped his car._

"_Me neither."_

"_You should go home. Take some rest." He spoke again, the supervisor in him showed its authority. "We're both off tonight." _

"_You should go home too." She retorted and kicked some invisible gravel with her foot, sending a cloud of dust into the air._

"_Will you stop being so stubborn? At least for tonight?" _

"_I will when you stop acting like a bossy supervisor. At least for tonight." _

_It didn't need the moonlight to __shine on__ her face; he knew she was rolling her eyes at him. He followed her steps, away from the deep square hole still uncovered on the ground; away from the crime scene tape, slightly askew after being the victim of the __desert wind__. They climbed slowly, made new footprints on the slippery sand. When she tumbled backward, __losing her footing, he grabbed her hand to steady her and had kept hold of it until they reached their destination._

_A gentle tug from her told him that she wanted to free her delicate fingers from his hand. _

"_Come sit with me." He didn't let go and tug her to sit down on a rather flat rock instead. "I can't stop being your supervisor. It's my job." _

"_We're off and we're not at the lab." Even as the clouds shaded the moon, he could see her eyebrows twitch as she frowned. However she sat beside him and he was glad for it. Together they sat wrapped in silence as the night __got__ darker. __The stars__ were shy that night, only a few appeared above their heads. The desert made no noise, unlike Vegas, a__s if nature__ understood how both of them __needed__ some rest from __what had happened to Nick, some time out with their own thoughts._

_Grissom was searching his mind for the right way to unburden his heart to her. But__ the words felt heavy on __his__ tongue. The moment he saw Nick out of the coffin, the moment he saw his fake smile and empty eyes, he knew he would have gone crazy then and there if it __had been__ Sara in that damned box. If it __had been__ her and, God forbid, he __couldn't have saved__ her, he would have…. he would have… _

_He could not __even imagine__ what __he would have done__, what he would do. _

"_What happened__ to Nick… wasn't your fault." __Sara whispered at last, breaking the lengthy silence. He felt her hand curl as she squeezed his hand reassuringly._

"_It was, I'm his supervisor."_

"_Well, you can stop being supervisor just for tonight."_

_He looked up __toward__ her. Her eyes were barely visible __in__ the moonlight. _

"_It's okay Gil. Nick will get over this. We will get over this. We will all be fine" She smiled. He could not make out __her smile__ but he could see the corner of her mouth __curl up__. _

_Now was his chance and he took it. The desert seemed to be spinning around him as he leaned forward and gently kissed his lips to hers with all the helplessness and hope he possessed. When she kissed him back the ground beneath his feet dissolved as the air enveloped him with its warmth. _

_He was wishing that their kiss __could__ last for ever when she pulled back. She was smiling, her wide grin tugging at his heart. "__Are we going to be fine?"__ He asked, afraid that she regretted this somehow._

"_Yeah, we are." The feel of her arm around his waist alleviated his weariness and without hesitation he smiled and kissed her again._

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But this was now and he had amends to make.

"Sara…," He called out slowly. The last thing he needed was to startle her.

She looked up with a start, surprised by his presence at first but as he approached he could make out the hint of annoyance in her frown.

"Hi…" He stood in front of her, waiting for an invitation to come nearer. She said nothing and looked away, so he gingerly sat down beside her on the rock and waited for her to make the next move.

Sadly, she inched away.

"Sara… honey…" He let her keep the distance but his hand reached for hers. "I wasn't thinking. When I decided to stay at He…"

She silenced him with a curt shake of the head. "I'm sorry." She blurted out without making eye contact.

An apology was not what he had expected, at least not from her. He had braced himself for a burst of anger or stream of silent tears or worst of it all, a punishing gaze of deep sadness. He leaned forward slightly, taking both her hands in his, trying to meet her gaze. She still had that dull shine in her eyes, shining through the dark and stabbed him deep. He wondered how long it would take for her beautiful eyes to shine as bright and lively as before.

'What I did last night was…unfair…. I'm sorry," Sara whispered, her gaze averted to the ground. "I lost my mind back then and I didn't like it. This person I became… This jealous wreck…" she let out a short breath and then she turned toward him, holding his gaze as she said. "I need some space."

"Sara, it wasn't your fault." _And the last thing we need is more space, _Grissom lamented.

She sighed, shaking her head at his words. "I was so confused, so…angry." She looked away and Grissom was half grateful for it, afraid that he would catch a glimpse of more tears.

"I thought you understood. You told me to do what I needed to do." Although it was too late; he regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth.

"You didn't tell me that that you would spend the night with her," she almost shouted. There were no tears in her eyes, just excruciating pain and utter disappointment.

"We just talked Sara, nothing happened. She's a friend"

Sara just lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

"Don't you trust me?"

"I don't know." She moved to stand. He tried to hold on to her hands, to keep her close, but he failed. She backed away slowly, looking at the sky. "I don't know anymore, Gil." He followed her stare and met with a lonesome view. The moon sat alone in the sky, no stars, no clouds, just a half rounded gray plate glowing dimly. Something told him that he had made a wrong move again.

When he looked at her eyes again, they were brimming with tears.

"I think we need some time out." she said quietly and without emotion, looking him in the eye.

His face was a picture of bewilderment. "Sara...?"

"We need to break up."

_The black queen knocked the white king down. Checkmate._

**TBC**

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	4. Part Four : Drowning

**Disclaimer : **Please refer to previous chapters:)

**A/N : **Sylvie IS the BEST (Bias? Nooooo, I'm a very objective person) . Terima kasih Sensei:)

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_**Part Four : Drowning**_

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It felt like he was drowning. Water rose up slowly around him, so high he could not breathe.

_Relax Gil, relax. _

Her words echoed in his head enveloping him like cold water.

_We need to break up._

It felt like no matter how hard he struggled the whirl of the current sucked him deeper.

_She didn't mean what she had said, did she? She was just confused._

His hands trembled, his lungs felt heavy. He was at the verge of a panic attack.

_Relax, and choose your next move carefully Gil. Relax._

"Sweetheart…" The usual term of endearment felt like bitter medicine on his tongue. He said it hesitantly and he knew Sara could hear the slight tremble in each syllable. "Please…"

She took one more step back, as if trying to get out of his sight. He could picture the pawns, the knights, and the bishops being swept from the chessboard as the game ended. Strange how he could see his father now; frowning and chastising his lack of strategy, when it was Sara who stood in front of him, ready to be reached.

"Sara…" He began again, standing on his wobbly feet this time. "Please, don't do this to me."

"Could you just leave me alone?" It was barely a whisper, almost inaudible because of the wind, but he had heard her words loud and clear.

"Give me a chance, please. Heather…"

"Stop it Grissom." His last name felt like a knife, stabbing him as it came out of her mouth. "Please stop. Don't say her name. Not in front of me."

"She's just a friend Sara, can't you see that? I was just helping her… Allison, Heather's grand…"

"Stop!" Her command, loud and sharp, startled him.

"Sara…" He didn't know what else to say. He didn't know what else to do. _Why can't she understand __me__? Why can't she let __me __explain?_

"Please Grissom, leave me alone." As he advanced forward he could see her eyes were closed, her arms wrapped around her trembling body. "Don't make me yell at you. Don't let me be my father."

_God. What have I done? _Grissom thought as he reached her side, trying to envelop her in a hesitant embrace.

She resisted at first, pushing his arms away, fighting him off, squirming as if he was trying to hurt her. But soon, her knees collapsed to the ground and she fell into pitiful sobs. He could do nothing but kneel beside her, wrapping his arms around her shaking shoulders.

It killed him, the fact that he had been the cause of so many tears in one single night. His mishap on trying to help Heather aside, he had reminded Sara of her father, of her depressing childhood. He, of all the people in the world, had brought forth the greatest source of her fears.

A single tear escaped, trickling down his own cheek as he felt her body weaken in his arms. The mention of her father had left him without words and he could only berate himself for his insensitivity and thoughtlessness. He rocked her body in his embrace, gently, afraid of hurting her some more. The desert seemed motionless as he waited for her to stop crying.

When she finally did, he tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ears, hating himself some more as he saw her red rimmed eyes. He tried to wipe the remnant of her teardrops off her cheek but she pushed his hands away.

"Leave me alone." She wiped her face with the back of her hands.

"Sara…"

"Please." Her trembling voice came with the sudden gush of wind; dust surrounded them in an instant as clouds shielded the already dim moonlight.

_It's not the perfect time to argue Grissom. _He reprimanded himself as he reached for his torchlight. "Okay, but I can't leave you alone in this place."

"I'll call a cab." She sniffed and coughed, the dust cloud was getting into their eyes and lungs.

The wind was getting stronger and Grissom knew it would be very dangerous for her to stay in the desert alone much longer. He turned the torchlight on, aimed its white beam past the small hill. He couldn't see the rooftop of the ant-nursery like he could when he first arrived.

"Sara, I think a storm is coming this way. Let me drive you to the main road first then you can call a cab. Okay."

Just as Sara finished shaking her head no, a strong gust of wind swept the dry bushes and sent them into a whirl. Grissom was quick to shield Sara's body with his and proceeded to get her upright. "Come on, we need to leave this place."

She gave up, albeit reluctantly, as Grissom led her to his car. The short trip back to where Nick had been buried alive seemed to take forever as the wind kept on trying to knock them back. When they reached the Mercedes Sara was already coughing hard and Grissom could feel his eyes watering, full of sand and dust. He helped her to the passenger seat, flinching when his hand brushed against her palm. Her palm felt sweaty and warm.

"Are you okay?" He moved to touch her forehead but she swatted his hand away.

"I'm Fine. Just drive." Her eyes were closed, leaving no room for argument.

He obeyed, carefully driving them back toward Vegas. Every once in a while he stole a glance at her. It seemed like she was sleeping, eyes closed and breathing evenly. If it wasn't for her occasional glances checking the road, he would have thought of driven her straight to their home.

Or, for this time being, his townhouse.

"Stop here," she instructed brusquely as they reached the main road.

"I can drive you to your… ummm… destination." He just wanted to know where she was staying. He was so afraid of totally losing her. That and he needed to be sure that she would be okay.

She just shook her head no and walked out of the car. He watched with raised hope as she suddenly turned back and leaned in against the passenger door.

"Grissom," her sad eyes shone under the streetlight and Grissom could feel something, the one thing that was so important in his heart and yet could not name fly away. "I need this…for us to take some time apart…a breakup. Please, don't try to track me down." She then walked away, hands in her pockets.

He watched, waiting for her to turn back. He sat in his car, willing for himself to be brave, to think of a move that would bring her back. And yet, he did absolutely nothing to stop her. He could only sit in his car helplessly. He shed another tear when the taxi pulled up and then drove off with the love of his life. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, thinking about a thousand different ways he should have played this game.

Then, when the storm reached the car, he realized that it wasn't a game. It was his life that was at stake.

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_He had spread __a__ blanket, pillows and sheets, creating a __perfect__ bedding on the floor near the fireplace. There was music, __an__ instrumental flow he had picked out himself. He had __requested__ for candles to be lit, pink rose petals to be spread, fresh fruits and champagne to be ready, and for nobody to disturb. _

_He had this perfectly planned and she was the glorious __centerpiece__; a centerpiece that currently wore nothing but a skimpy silky negligee. A centerpiece that had her arms flung above her head seductively and her thighs, damn those milky thighs, __were__ a sweet contrast on the peach colored sheets._

_The hotel bathrobe slipped from his shoulder effortlessly as he shrugged it off. He knew how much Sara loved his chest, so he made sure to give her a perfect show. And then, the boxers came off in one swift movement, a smile of __satisfaction formed__ on his face as he saw Sara lick her lips. _

_He sank slowly beside her, propped on his elbow as he ran his fingers up and down her arm. When he fingered the strap of her nightgown aside, revealing the top of her breast, __he knew he would trade his life for this sweet moment to happen again__._

_He kissed, first her cleavage, up to her neck, chin, lips, and came back to her neck again, suckling and biting. When he peeked below, she was rubbing her feet against the sheet, as if challenging him to do more._

"_Let me." The words slipped out of his lips in a rough whisper. His palms trailed up her thighs as he bunched her nightgown up her hips, revealing her panties. There __was the__ familiar __scent__ of her arousal, __coming__ in waves toward him, and Grissom couldn't help but dive down, sniffed her trough the lacy._

"_Gil…" She called and he glanced up, for a while their eyes locked, __sparkling with desire__. "Please." She begged, her __lashes fluttering__, her __thighs spreading__ wider._

_Grissom smiled wickedly, caressing her thighs once more before __diving__ down to her core. __He licked her lips onc__e, twice, before he parted her and pushed his tongue inside._

"_Gil… P… Please…"_

_It felt like __he was__ drowning in pride and lust. He was the man __who was__ making her beg. It was his name that she whimpered out. It was him who got the chance to celebrate her birthday in a fancy hotel, pampering her, adoring her, giving her what she deserved._

_He moved, swirled, probed, inside of her; coaxing her release._

"_Gil."_

_Even though he could not see her, Grissom could picture her hands tangled on the sheet, her head __pressed against__ the pillow. He felt smug when she tugged at his hair, calling out his name. On hands and knees he rose, willing to see those brown eyes beg._

_Those brown eyes did beg, but not for his touch, not for his love. __Her red rimmed eyes filled with sorrow as tears began to run down her cheeks.__ "Please Gil, leave me alone."_

"_Sara…" _

_She shook her head against the white pillow, her hair was like an ethereal halo, her lips inviting. But those sad eyes made her __look__ like a goddess in pain. "Please Gil; let me go, leave me alone."_

"_Sara…" He reached for her, eager to mend whatever fault had caused her tears. But she dissolved __into thin__ air, gone from his fingertips. _

"_Sara!" He screamed, trying to wake up and find her, but the sheets had become an ocean, swallowing him whole, leaving no room to breathe._

_He screamed again and drowned._

_Dark and deep. _

_

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_Grissom woke up from the nightmare with a start, realizing that he had fallen asleep on his office desk. His back felt stiff and his migraine had come back with a vengeance. When he glanced at the clock, it told him that it was too late to go home and too early for his real shift.

He recalled Sara leaving him at the side of the road. He remembered the desert and the storm. He remembered everything about her. He even could make out the detail of her nightgown in his mind; her birthday last year was a precious memory. Now, it was tainted with the horror of his guilt.

He checked his pager and phone, willing for something to happen that would keep his mind from thinking about Sara. A couple hours ago as he was about to drink his third shot of whisky at a bar Jim had called him in. The wolverinesse from the previous case had admitted another homicide, giving Catherine and Hodges another body to process. Greg's simple B&E had led to sheriff's niece and the co-owner of MGM, giving the young CSI a whole lot of pressure from Ecklie. The undersheriff had requested Grissom's presence at once to sort things out.

"Ecklie's fuming because he could not reach you. He said, and I quote, Grissom needs get his ass here A.S.A.P." Brass had informed him in his usual nonchalant manner.

Grissom had come to the lab and tidied up Greg's case, ignoring the tempting whisky bottle in his bottom drawer, more because of his sense of responsibility than of Ecklie's supremacy.

Now five more hours left to his shift and Grissom could only linger in his office, pondering what would happen next in his love life. If there was still a love life.

"Hey Grissom." Brass stood at the doorway, leaning against the door jam.

"If Ecklie wants me to talk to the sheriff, tell him I'm not his spokesperson."

"No, actually I've got a call from dispatch. You might want to come with me."

It was evident from his tone that Brass was hiding something and as Grissom got up from his desk, he could only feel a deep sense of apprehension.

TBC

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Thank you for reading, don't forget to leave a comment or two before you click the X button:)


	5. Part Five : Help

**DISCLAIMER : **Please refer to chapter one.

**A/N: **Don't tell Sylvie I write this A/N, Please_….*Whisper* Sylvie co-authored this chapter with me, she added some interesting bits and more, she made this fic worth all the efforts. Thank you, Sylvie. *end of whisper*_

Now enjoy the story!

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_**Part Five : Help**_

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"What?" Grissom had to shout in order to be heard over the wailing siren of Brass's car. The detective drove fast, the backup patrol car barely able to keep up among the traffic.

"You heard me. Dispatch called in a possible 413A and 415B, and they confirmed the caller as Sara Sidle."

Grissom's fingers automatically came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Horrible scenarios played in his mind as he silently prayed Brass would put his foot down. Building and cars were blurred as they passed by but for Grissom that still wasn't fast enough.

_What if she gets hurt? What if she has done something stupid? Why did __she have to __go to that place anyway?_

As if reading Grissom's thoughts Brass asked as he slowed down, "What is she doing at Heather's place anyway? I thought the Oakley's Saloon case was over."

"I don't know Brass. I don't know." He shook his head. _No. No. Sara would never do that. She wouldn't confront Heather, would she?_

"There's already a patrol at the scene. Don't worry." The car turned right as Brass finished his comforting line. The rooftop of Heather's dominion came into view and Grissom had to suppress his urge to jump out of the car. His seatbelt already undone, he jumped out as soon as Brass stopped.

"Do you think she'll insist we give her the magic word this time?" Brass quipped as he strode to an officer who was leaning onto a patrol car.

"Gates." Brass nodded at the officer.

"I've just called for the EMT's and back up, Sir. The man drove away in a Mitsubishi L200. White, no number plates."

"A man?" Brass inquired.

Before the officer could answer, Grissom cut in with a question that had plagued him since Brass mentioned the possibility of assault. "EMT's? Who's injured?"

"One of the witnesses confirmed it was a man, Sir," the officer told Brass "The house has been cleared. Thomas is inside with them." He looked at Grissom pointing toward the house. "One of the witnesses got a pretty deep incision, but she refused to go to the hospital."

"There are two officers following behind; secure the perimeter with them," Brass ordered with practiced ease and authority. Grissom didn't even wait for his friend to finish; he was already at the door.

The paintings and items of furniture were the same. The flowers were of the same kind but much fresher than two days ago. Grissom felt slightly lightheaded as he entered the familiar foyer. Sara was in there, a crime scene that also happened to be Heather's place.

If twists of fate did exist, this was one hell of an example.

Grissom saw Sara first. She was kneeling on the floor inspecting what appeared to be a shoeprint. Her hair fell forward covering her face, and Grissom secretly longed to tuck those smooth locks behind her ears.

Then there was Heather sat on the familiar striped couch, one hand pressing a towel against her neck while the other cradled a cell phone close to her ear.

"Yes. I want you to watch her 24/7. No. Cash. As much as you want. Just do it now." She flipped her phone shut and as though sensing his eyes on her, lifted her gaze to Grissom. "Grissom."

"Heather." He took her proffered hand, helping her to stand, while watching Sara from the corner of his eyes. She didn't look up but he could tell by the way her shoulders were hunched that she was uptight.

"Okay, tell us what happened here." Brass stepped in, taking out his notepad out of his breast pocket. "Oh shit, Sara, are you okay?" The detective asked suddenly as he kneeled beside Sara. He touched her on the shoulder, turning her arm to examine the wound on her elbow.

That was when Grissom saw it. He hadn't noticed it before. Sara had a gash on her elbow, which was bleeding heavily. She stared at the wound blankly, not feeling the pain. He chastised himself again, for he should have been the first to notice that Sara was injured; for he shouldn't have gone to see to Heather first when the only person he truly cared about in the room was Sara.

"Sara," Grissom moved to her, but it was too little too late and Sara was already on her feet, returning Brass's hesitant smile.

"I'm fine," she replied not making eye contact with Grissom. "Stupid me fell when I was giving pursuit." For a brief moment Sara's gaze brushed against Grissom's. "Heather's got a pretty deep cut there," she said dryly. "You should make sure she gets medical attention." She nodded toward Heather awkwardly.

"Heather?" Brass inquired.

"It's stopped bleeding," Heather replied quietly. "I need to talk to you," she added fixing her gaze on Grissom. Grissom could swear he saw Sara's eyes narrow in anger.

"Well, you can start talking now," Brass cut in abruptly. "What happened? Has Thomas taken your statement?" Brass's questions seemed to fall on deaf ears as Heather was still looking intently at Grissom.

"I'm sorry Captain Brass, but I need to talk to Grissom first."

"Oh, I see." Brass winked at Grissom then turned his attention to Sara. "Will you talk to me first Sara? Or do I also have to wait in line for you?"

Sara just shrugged and followed Brass to the kitchen, leaving Grissom in the turmoil of his own thoughts. He was torn. He knew that he should be talking to Sara first. But Heather tugged at his hand, demanding that he followed her to one corner of the room, away from prying ears.

"Heather…" he protested weakly.

"Grissom. I know who was behind this assault."

"You do?"

Heather sighed, glancing toward Sara, "I actually didn't want this to come out. But your CSI there, Sara, she saw what happened and called for back up."

Grissom glanced toward the other room. Sara was still talking to Brass, her arm laid across her chest as though in an invisible sling. And he missed her, missed talking to his Sara. He wanted to be where Brass was but he had a job to do, appearances to keep. "Slow down Heather. Tell me what happened first."

"This man, he barged in and threatened me with his knife. He said…" Heather stole another glance around before continuing "he said, he would do Allison harm if I didn't give the money back."

He pinched the bridge of his nose again. This was like a tangled web and he was caught in the middle of it. "Heather, what money?"

"The money that I got from Jack Oakley. I think his wife is behind this." Heather whispered but before Grissom could say anything she added in a warning tone. "Grissom. The attacker warned me not to let the cops know about it. I can't risk Allison's safety."

"You're not going to be able to keep this quiet, Heather. CSI's already on its way and Brass will want an explanation."

"I'm not going to file a report."

"It's not that easy. Beside you can't have any guarantees that it will stop even after you return the money."

"I'll make sure it does." The look in Heather's eyes was feral and Grissom felt like he was seeing the Heather he saw when they talked about what Jacob Wolfowitz had done to her child. "No one will harm my granddaughter. I can guarantee that."

"Heather," Grissom said wearily, "we've been through this once before, haven't we?"He felt tired and he sat down on the couch, catching Sara watching him from the corner of his eye. He rubbed his temple; he had his own mess to sort out.

"I promise you I won't do anything stupid but I would be grateful if you could…" she waved toward Brass and his officers, "…get them out of here. Please?"

"There is protocol to follow. I can't just…"

"I'll beg if you want me to. Allison…" Heather let out a short breath. "Grissom, she means the world to me."

There was that sadness again, deep within Heather's eyes. She was wordlessly begging him and he once again caved in.

_Maybe it's time for me to start thinking about myself and Sara. Heather can handle this. She won't put her life in danger. Not after __finding__ her chance with her granddaughter._

"Okay." Grissom nodded and headed to where Brass and Sara were, a plan forming in his mind.

"You done with your witness, Detective Grissom?" Brass asked Grissom with his patented leer while Sara still refused to make eye contact.

Holding his hands up, Grissom purposely stopped beside Sara. "She doesn't want to file a report."

Brass leaned on the counter, raising his eyebrow skeptically, "Really? Why do I smell something fishy here?"

"It's because you are in a kitchen," Grissom quipped. "Listen, I can't share all the details, but Heather won't file a report so you and your men can go."

"Grissom, from what I understand, a crime happened here, a call was made. Cops, CSI's, and EMT's are on their way. I know Heather thinks she's the dominant one here, but this old detective here won't submit and we won't just vanish at the snap of her fingers."

"I know, but you got to trust me on this, okay?"

Brass looked at Grissom questioningly. But the latter just shrugged and turned his attention to Sara "Well, Sara called it in, right??"

"Yeah, but what about her attacker?" Sara snapped angrily. "I saw him holding a knife against her throat. There is probably an inch deep cut on her neck right now."

"Did you see him attack her?" Grissom hated himself for cornering Sara like this, but he had to do it. He needed to help Heather to get his plan into gear.

Reeling that Grissom chose Heather over her, Sara shook her head no and turned to Brass. "You can't just leave it like that."

Brass straightened up and threw his hands up in the air. "Fine by me. I need to catch some beauty sleep anyway. Just don't come crying to me when things get messy." He addressed his last line to Grissom then grabbed his notebook from the counter before walking away. "Come on Thomas, contact dispatch to report a false alarm." He waved at the uni.

"False alarm?"

"Don't give me that confused look Thomas. I'm as confused as you. Come on, coffee's on me."

"Sara…," Grissom took a hold of Sara's arm as she was about to storm out of the house.

Sara jerked her arm free. "I'm no longer needed here."

"Don't you want to know why I'm doing this?" He smiled at her, more to eliminate the tension between them than anything.

"What?" she snorted. "Know why yet again you chose her over me?" She laughed emptily. "You said you couldn't share the details."

"With Brass, yes. With you, no." He said warily. "You deserve to know." He led her to where Heather was. "Trust me on this. Please."

"Trust you?" She refused to move and narrowed her eyes at him again. "No. I trusted you when I told you to do what you needed to do about her. I trusted you when I-"

"Please," he interrupted earnestly. "If after this you are still angry at me, you can have your way." He put his hand in the small of her back, gently leading her forward. "Please."

"I'm not angry. I'm disappointed," she muttered but moved anyway. Together they came to where Heather was. The later immediately ended another phone call as she saw them coming.

"Thank you." Heather looked up from where she sat on the couch; the towel in her hand now stained blood. "It means a lot Grissom."

"As long as you don't get into trouble." His hand still on Sara's back, Grissom sighed. "And since you owe me one, I hope you can help me."

Heather's gaze flicked from Grissom to Sara. "Help you? How?"

"I need you to tell Sara why you won't file a report, and then I want you to tell her about Allison." He didn't say please. He didn't want to. Grissom could only hope that Heather would hear the helplessness in his demand and see the fear of losing Sara for good in his eyes.

Heather's gaze darted to Sara, as if she was trying to get a measure of the girl in front of her. Grissom could see how uncomfortable Sara was. He could not blame her; he could feel a strange sense of rivalry between Sara and Heather. The clock ticked slowly as both women look at each other, unspoken judgment filling the air. Grissom just hoped that one of them would say something, at least for Sara to know Heather better, so she could see that for him, Heather was nothing but a friend.

"Can I trust her?" The question came out from Heather.

"You don't have to do this. Neither of you." Sara was ready to bolt, her hands fisted at her sides, her voice tinted with annoyance.

But Grissom reacted fast this time. He reached for Sara's hands, clasping them in his, and slowly, deliberately, kissing her knuckles. "Yes Heather, you can trust Sara."

At first, a look of complete surprise etched on Heather's face. Then when it dawned on her, she gave a small smile and extended her hand warmly. "Nice to meet you, Sara. Although he never mentioned a name, Grissom has told me a lot about you."

Grissom observed wistfully as Sara, albeit hesitantly, shook Heather's hand. When she sat across Heather as she began to listen to Heather's story, Grissom breathed a sigh of relief and retreated to leave them both alone, using "searching for first aid kit" as his excuse.

He found the white box in the guest bathroom, contemplating on how familiar the place was that he needed no direction to find the box. It would be a big lie to say that this place held no meaning for him. A small portion of his past was carved under this roof among the walls. He had confided many stories to Heather, things that he couldn't bear to tell to anyone else. There was no denying that Heather was important to him, but not as significant as Sara.

He chuckled at his own reflection on the mirror, feeling silly to ever compare Heather with Sara. Both were smart, both were beautiful, but only Sara had his heart. Only for Sara he was willing to sacrifice his life.

He took another while in the bathroom, willing for Heather to finish her story before he interrupted them. However when he got back to the living area Sara was no longer there.

"She's excused herself." Heather explained, her eyes dancing as panic rose in Grissom's heart. "I've told her everything."

_Oh no she didn't, did she? _Grissom stormed out of the house but stopped when he saw the first aid kit in his hand. He glanced up worriedly at Heather's neck.

The later smirked and grabbed the kit from Grissom's hand. "She means that much to you, doesn't she? Don't worry; I spared her the dirty details." When Grissom didn't answer she chuckled. "Go to her, she can't be gone that far yet. I've called a doctor, I'll be fine."

It didn't need to be told a second time to get out of the house for Grissom to get through the front door. He slowed down when he saw Sara walk down the narrow path. "Heather!" He poked his head back at the doorway, catching the house owner's attention. "Please, don't get yourself into trouble."

"No." Heather shook her head amusedly. "Don't get _**your**_**self** into trouble." She jerked her head toward the front yard and they both watched as Sara left the Dominion on foot. "Be good to her."

Grissom nodded and took off running toward the street. He was running for Sara, for his future and for his life. _Please. _He begged to whatever deity he ever knew. _Help me._

**TBC**

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**Wow, an appearance of certain lady! I hope I wrote Heather's character just fine. Thank you so much for reading, for giving my fic a chance :)**


	6. Part Six : Try

**Disclaimer : **I don't own CSI and the characters.

**A/N: **At first, this pitiable attempt at angst only had 2 chapters; the angst chapter and the smutty closure. Somehow, thanks to Sylvie's suggestions, the story has expanded into six chapters. I'd like to say that Sylvie has co-authored this with me. She has done so much more than checking the grammar (she even let me steal something from her latest angstylicious "A Crime Too Far"). But she might hate me for saying such thing, so, I hope a thank-you is enough, Terima kasih Sensei:)

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_**Part Six : Try**_

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"Sara, wait." Grissom called out as he got to the street. Breathless, he wiped his brow and strode toward Sara. _Damn,__ I'm too old for this._ He regretfully recalled the many times Sara had encouraged him to exercise with her.

Sara sighed and slowed down, glancing over her shoulder. She waited until Grissom had caught up with her to resume walking.

"Sara, wait, we need to talk."

"Really? Why is that?"

"Because…" He drew a heavy breath and grabbed her hand stopping her flee at the side of the road. "Because..."

Grissom's words were drowned out by the sound of an oncoming cab. The yellow car sent a thin cloud of dust into air as it stopped in front of them. The driver poked his head out of the window; his red rimmed glasses were large, his dreadlock hair dangling messily. "Yo. You called for a cab?"

Sara nodded and proceeded to get in, then threw a sad look over her shoulder as she closed the cab's door. "Asking Heather to talk to me hasn't changed the harm that's already been done."

"No. I know that." Before the driver had time to drive away, Grissom yanked the door open throwing himself beside Sara. _But I hope it will change your mind_.

"What are you doing? This is my cab?" She glared at him incredulously.

"I caught a lift of Brass. I don't have a ride." He shrugged then tapped the glass partition. "2205 Beach Front Drive."

"What? No!" She leaned forward, ready to mention another address, but Grissom pulled her back by the shoulders and pinned her against the back seat.

Looking into the depth of her eyes, he whispered her name, trying his best to communicate his love for her in that one look. Then he kissed her on the lips; slowly but firmly. He didn't even give her a chance to utter a single word. His hands brushed up her arms to her shoulders as his lips savored the taste they had so missed.

She caved in at first, her lips parting as his tongue caressed them. But the cab driver coughed, and Sara seemed to get her sense back in those short seconds. She pushed her palms against Grissom's chest and shoved him out of her way. She was breathing hard as she glared at him but you could tell she was slowly bringing down every one of her carefully-build defenses.

Grissom took his chance. "I love you and I won't let you go." Those words seemed to make sense at that moment, and Grissom voiced them unreservedly.

"Love me?" She gave a small empty laugh. "If you loved me you wouldn't have spent the night with Heather," she spat bitterly as she inched away. "Now get out of my cab!"

"Not _with_ Heather. _At_ Heather's, Sara. There's a difference." Sara remained silent and Grissom sighed. "Besides love has nothing to do with my stupid faults Sara. But I know that love is the reason why you came to Heather's." It took all the courage he had for him to admit to that but it had the desired effect.

"Don't you dare compare your infidelity with my actions tonight, Grissom! I'm just… I was…" Her eyes widened in anger, but she had lost her grasp of words.

"Tell me that you didn't come here to clarify what happened between me and Heather the other night. " He challenged. "Tell me that you didn't come here because you still care about us."

She stayed silent, letting seconds turn into minutes. He cupped her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Umm, guys, I just want you to know that the fare is running," the driver interjected at the most inopportune moment.

Sara didn't miss the opportunity; she turned her head and sighed. Her hand was on the door handle ready to get out. "Take this cab, I'll find another."

It was amazing how Sara always seemed so ready to give up what she had, to him. But this time he wouldn't let her. "No." The firm tone surprisingly came out from his mouth. He grasped her hand away from the door and tapped the driver's shoulder with his other hand. "Go. Drive to the address I gave you."

The driver glanced at Sara questioningly.

"Go!" Grissom commanded. He felt his back pocket for his ID and flashed it at the driver. "I'm a cop."

The driver didn't budge and Sara had almost freed herself from Grissom's tight hold.

"Go! I'll triple the fare." He commanded.

The driver hit the gas pedal immediately and Grissom had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He gave Sara his full attention, staring into her eyes again as she looked fiercely at him.

"You know I can always take another cab once we get home right? And I can report you for assault."

He nodded and let go of her hand. "Tell me that you really want us to be apart and I'll stop the cab now or you can wait and do anything you want when we reach the town house."

She gaped but pressed her lips together again, sighing .

_Exactly Sara, you still want us together. _Grissom smiled. "Let's sort this out Sara. Let's talk."

"I'm not ready."

"Then we'll wait, together. Take as long as you need Sara, just don't leave me." He leaned closer as she looked out of the window at the passing landscape. "I'll sleep on the couch, I'll buy another tube of toothpaste, just…," He took a deep breath and once again forced her to look at him. "Just don't be far away from me while we wait. Please."

"You can't always have your way. Let me have mine this time"

He, of all people, could see the truth in her words. He had always been the selfish one in their relationship, but as much as he wanted to stop being selfish, this wasn't the perfect time for it. "This is what you want too, sweetheart. You want us, we both need an us."

It took a moment, but the shade of anger in her slowly turned to one of insecurity. "What If I do what I did to you last night again? What if…"

"We hurt each other?" he whispered finishing her sentence for her in the strange way that he always did.

She didn't need to agree to his words or nod her head; he had known the answer in his heart for so long. Sara, his Sara, was a beautiful woman with many insecurities.

"Then that's how it's going to be. I can't promise you I won't leave you stranded again like I did when I stay at Heather's. And I don't want you to promise me you won't do…," The image of her eyes, filled with tears as she rode him into completion played in his mind. "We can't be perfect Sara; we can't always understand each other's mind. But we can always try."

He reached for her hand, kissing it reverently, and then brushed a tendril of hair away from her cheek. "I'm such an ass for asking this; I'm sorry, but please give us another chance?"

She didn't answer, yet she didn't remove her hand from his. When he entwined his fingers with hers, she just leaned against the window, gazing away in thought. Then she took a short breath and keeping her eyes on the road, she finally opened up to him a little. "I went to the Dominion to see her. Really, really see her, with my own eyes. And she's just as Catherine said she is. Heather is…" She gulped, "She complements you. Beautiful, smart, intense... charming."

"But she's not you Sara, not the woman my heart beats for."The scenery passed them by, and Grissom knew they were still a long way from home. _What should I do? Should I tell her everything? _

"You… you have history with her. Catherine said that you spent the night-"

_Oh, __how I'd__ love to have a word or two with you right now, Catherine, some best friend you are. _"Sara, you know how much Catherine love to listen to the sound of her own voice," he cut in defensively.

Those brown eyes finally looked up to him, and Grissom knew what was going to come out of her lips next. It was never good when Sara Sidle looked up to you questioningly while squaring her shoulders.

"But you did spend some nights with her, right?" There, the question that haunted him probably as much as it had haunted her was out in the open.

"It's no longer important Sara." He gave one last attempt to skirt around the issue.

Sara looked down at their entwined fingers and sighed. "I know you won't answer that." Her eyes, wilt and sad, gave Grissom no other choice.

He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling like he was inside an oven instead of an air-conditioned cab. "I…," He shifted in his seat, facing Sara and gently tightened his hold of her hands. "I do have some history with Heather." He cupped her chin when she tried to look away again. "You want to know Sara, let me tell you everything and I _mean_ everything."

He took a big breath and began. "I met her on an ongoing investigation, maybe you've heard it before; Mona? The girl in the sandpit back in 2002?" He didn't wait for her answer. "We met again a couple of times after that, mostly because of another case involving one of her employees. And then there was this case where Zoe-"

"She told me about her daughter." Sara interrupted, "and Allison."

Grissom nodded and silently thanked Heather for that. "When I went to see her at the hospital and saw the ligature marks around her neck, I knew something was off. And just like I care about Jim, Catherine, or Al, I care about Heather. I'll be damned if I let my friend, any friend of mine, slip away just like that." He glanced at the road ahead, only a couple more blocks to go until they got home. "If in the process of taking care of my friend I have deserted you dear, then, I'm sorry. It's only because I'm a stupid man, not because you are less important than them."

_Here we go_ _the dirty detail._ He sighed and prepared himself for the next clarification. "Yes, I've spent nights with Heather in the past." He cringed when she cringed. "Only in a far more different context than what Catherine suggested."

Sara still showed disbelief through her eyes, and Grissom dreadfully continued, "There was this one night though." Sara looked away, tears welling in her eyes and Grissom hated himself even more for that. "One night only, I swear to you." He paused. "And just like you said, it is history."

"Heather ," Sara gulped, "said that too. She said no matter what's happened in the past you've always been her respectful friend. She also told me that your heart belonged to someone else way before… before you two met."

He nodded again, smiling in earnest as he tentatively brushed his hand over her cheek and this time she didn't shy away. "That someone, sweetheart, is a girl that I met in San Francisco. This little spitfire that kept on asking questions no matter how simple my subject was."

"There is nothing simple about a double murder in a garage," she said, scowling a little and Grissom smiled, they were finally heading for the right track.

"But there is something simple between us, true attraction." He gazed longingly into her eyes as if seeing the same girl he saw years ago. "Please Sara, forgive this stupid old man. Let me make it up to you."

"We're here." The driver exclaimed as he hit the brake abruptly, causing Grissom to bump into Sara. "One hundred and twenty dollars." He turned his head and grinned at the tangled passengers. "It's actually one hundred and twenty six but since you're paying me triple I give you a discount."

Grissom, being bothered by the heat of Sara's body in such proximity, couldn't care less if the driver charged him a million for the eventful trip. He glared at the man and reached to help Sara sit up. "I'm sorry dear, are you okay?"

Sara nodded and used his shoulders as leverage. "I'm fine." The feel of her fingers digging into his skin made Grissom shiver.

"So…," He glanced toward the townhouse then back at Sara's eyes. If he counted, he would be surprised by the sudden increase of his heart rate. If she said no, if she refused to stay, if she chose to leave with the cab, he knew he would be devastated. But nothing, nothing, would stop him from trying to win her back. He'd bleed himself dry if he had to.

"Pay the driver." She finally reached for the door handle and opened it, "I think I'll stay a little longer."

He let out a breath and grinned as he too, got out of the cab. Their eyes met as they smiled at each other over the hood. Although her smile was more on the hesitant side, Grissom still felt grateful that she had chosen to stay.

"Uuum, guys, it's one hundred and twenty two now." The driver poked his ugly head out of the window and stretched out his hand.

Grissom rolled his eyes as his hand reached for his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Keep the change." He tossed the bills into the driver's open palm and rounded the cab to take Sara's hand in his, gently leading her to the townhouse.

Their townhouse.

**The End?**

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**T**hank you very , very much for those who stick with me until I reach this chapter. Special thanks for those who took time to give their comments, your thoughts were inspiring. Tell me what you think about this ending, do you think I need to post the original smutty epilogue?


	7. Part Seven : Amend

**Here we go the promised epilogue. I hope you enjoy it:)**

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_**Part Seven: Amend**_

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It was well into the morning when Grissom slowly roused from his sleep on the couch. A quick glance toward the bedroom was all it took to put his mind at rest; she hadn't left. She was still there with him and for that, he breathed a sigh of relief.

After the cab ride over, they had gone inside the townhouse in silence. Grissom hadn't made any attempt to talk but had kept her hand in his as they walked. He gave her space and time to think while allowing himself the same thing. It would give them a chance to reach some kind of truce while sparing her a breather; he had been repressive enough in the cab after all.

As the night progressed they simply started their nightly routine without really talking or touching. The only words he spoke were of concern for her wounded elbow and she dismissed it by saying that she would take care of it herself. He took residence on the couch again and she brought out the comforter for him. He thanked her as she silently retreated to the bedroom and gratefully noticed that she had left the door open a bit.

_Those are good signs right? I have made amends._

On waking, Grissom helped himself to two tablets of Tylenol first before searching the laundry room for clean clothes. He could only find his work shirt and opted to pair it with the boxers from the previous night. He washed his face at the sink as the coffee brewed, happily finding a bottle of mouthwash in the cabinet while he searched for the cereal box. When he came back from retrieving the morning paper from the foyer, she was already seated at the kitchen counter. Her hair was damp and a steamy mug of coffee was already in front of her.

For a moment the only sound he heard were the clattering of the cereals as he poured them into the bowls, bottles clanking against each other when he opened the refrigerator, and the muffled sounds of a siren from afar. He served the bowls at the counter, thinking that she might not have eaten at all since the previous evening he added her favorite sliced banana in her bowl. The coffee tasted a little bitter as he sipped it while pushing her bowl and the newspaper toward her. She glanced up, briefly, and then started to read silently.

Grissom waited, watching her push the cereal around in the bowl without really eating it. When minutes passed by without any sign of her starting the conversation, he put his mug down and pushed his bowl away.

"Are we okay?"

She sipped her coffee again, peeking over the mug and through her lashes. _Beautiful lashes_, Grissom couldn't help but notice.

"You have to trust me Sara." He locked his gaze with hers, hoping that she would see the truth in his eyes. "I love you."

"It's not as easy as saying I love you, Grissom," she mumbled.

"I know, I'm sorry." He glanced down at his cereal bowl, the white pool of milk tainted with floating brown crumbs. It was like their relationship; impossible to separate every mistake from the past from their love. But the possibility of moving forward together was the sole reason of his being.

"I'm sorry too." She whispered, her hands had let go of the coffee and reached for his instead. Looking at their entwined fingers across the counter, he knew that, after days of faults, he finally was en route toward something right.

"But I need to hear the whole story from you. Everything." Her eyes begged as her hands squeezed his.

He nodded in understanding and dragged his breakfast stool closer to her. "I located and spoke with Jerome Kessler. Heather's ex-husband." He explained slowly what he did to help Heather reunite with her granddaughter. He gave her details about Jerome and Zoe that she probably didn't know. He told her how he had met Heather, filling every gap that he could and would jeopardize his relationship with Sara if he didn't set straight. He told Sara about that one night he did **spend **with Heather, sparing her the details but revealing his true feeling when the event had occurred.

"It was out of curiosity, I guess. She didn't make me happy." He tried his best to explain and she just blinked.

When he finished he saw a glimmer of trust settle back in her eyes. It reminded him of the day, years ago when she had cried in front of him and told him about her family.

"Heather is a friend Sara, she always will be." That was the truth and despite their closeness in the past and all the possibilities that time had presented both of them with he and Heather were friends and nothing more.

She nodded gently; a trace of doubt still haunted her half-smile. Grissom knew he should not push it. Time would tell, and he would show her how much she meant to him one step at a time.

"I overreacted." She looked down to their entwined fingers on her lap.

He smiled and brought her hands to his lips, kissing them sincerely. "No. I was insensitive. You were just being the person who loves me." He pulled her up to her feet, hugging her close. "And I love you for that." He could feel her lean her cheek on his shoulder as he kissed her temple. "Let me show you." He whispered in her ear.

"Just promise me you'll let me know first if you want to visit Heather… No. Scratch that. Just promise me you won't visit that dominatrix ever again."

"I can't promise you that," he chuckled, finally able to see the cuteness in Sara's jealous frown. Soon he would need to introduce Sara to Heather properly. He really wanted Sara to see Heather as his friend, to value their friendship. But just like chess, a rushed move would mean more faults. Both Sara and him needed more time before they could trust each other again completely. "But I promise you to communicate everything to you. I promise you my love, for eternity." He ran his fingers through her damp hair, grateful for the chance.

A smile, a more sincere smile, adorned Sara's face as he cupped her chin and kissed first her forehead, then the tip of her nose. He gave her lips gentle kisses before running the tip of his tongue in the parting, coaxing her mouth to open. When their tongues met in the warmth of her mouth he tugged her closer, as if their current proximity wasn't close enough. She explored his sensual mouth while he ran his hands down from her face to her shoulders, down her arms, and he groaned when the journey ended on her supple ass.

She tugged his hand as they broke the kiss, leading him back to the bedroom. He stopped her midway, backing her to the couch as he alternately nibbled on her earlobe and neck.

"Gil…" She popped a couple buttons of his shirt open but he stopped her again.

"Let me show you Sara." His words were barely a whisper as he lowered their bodies onto the couch. He leaned back as Sara teased her tongue around his nipples and then turned her around in a gasp. "Let me love you."

She sat on his lap facing away from him and he watched their blurry reflection on the TV screen across the room as he deftly divested her from her shirt. The light blue bra that she was wearing enticingly pushed her breasts up and he had to refrain himself from turning her over again just to lavish the hardened buds. She unhooked the bra in one swift movement and he wasted no time, eagerly cupping and squeezing her mounds with his hands from behind.

A low moan escaped her lips as she lifted her arms and entangled her fingers in his hair, leaning back on his chest. He scrapped his teeth against the smooth expanse of her shoulder blade all the while worshipping her nipples with his fingers.

"Let's move these away." He fingered the waistband of her navy boxer shorts, smiling as she stood to remove them. When she reached for her panties, he brought her hand away from the skimpy lace. "Leave it." He gently guided her back onto his lap.

As she straddled him with her long luscious legs he parted his thighs, indirectly opening her up for his fingers. His arm around her hips, he slid his hand under her panties. At first, he only brushed his fingertips along her lips, letting her tremble for more. When she began to writhe atop him, Grissom dipped one finger into her warm centre, deliberately exploring her inside. His other hand moved down her thigh, parting her wider to allow deeper access.

He then leaned forward; nibbling her earlobe and whispering his apologies, all the while stretching her with three of his fingers. From the way Sara was whimpering and bucking, he knew he had given her equal amount of pain and pleasure. He drew his fingers slowly but Sara held his hand still.

"Don't." She shook her head against his shoulder, biting her lips. He smiled and kissed her temple as he slowly guided her hand between her thighs. He led one of her fingers inside accompanying it with one of his; together they rubbed her aching core. His other hand clasped her hand away from his curls, steering it to cup and fondle her breast.

He enjoyed the view greatly. His Sara, almost bursting out with satisfaction, lay back on his chest. Her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted as her body trembled. A surge of pride welled up in him, knowing he was the one who took her to the edge. Deep in his heart he hoped that Sara would understand that she was the only one deserving of this. She was the only one who could give him the pleasure of pleasuring her. That this was his attempt to mend his faults, however insignificant the action was.

A hitched gasp came out of Sara's parted lips and Grissom knew that she was close. He added one finger inside her while pressing her sensitized nub with his thumb. She bucked her hips and pushed back against his chest as he moved their fingers in circle. "Come for me love." He whispered in her ear as he pumped their fingers in her.

"Gil…" His name proudly escaped her in a hiss as she grinded against his lap. He bit her neck, gently scraping his teeth against her porcelain skin, and brought her higher and higher to completion. She came in a rush, contracting around their fingers. He kept both their hands in a slow pumping motion, riding her orgasm before slowly coming back to reality.

After a while, he hugged her limp and sated body from behind, tilted his head to kiss her passionately and said, "I love you Sara, only you."

Although she only mouthed her love-you-too with her eyes closed, he knew that for now it was enough.

He had made amends.

**EnD**

**Again, thank you very much for reading this and for your reviews too.**

** And to Sylvie; terima kasih banyak, I'd rather write "curiousity" than have Grissom killed with a bowl:)**


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